Along For The Ride

by Iola Foxx


“So where do you get off?”

“The fifth stop.”

I grab the first window seat. I hate taking the bus. It’s agonizingly boring, so I stare at traffic and imagine I can fly over it all, or turn into a cheetah and zip between vehicles, or sometimes--

“Hey.”

“Huh? What?”

“You just missed your stop.”